


Wherein Bones electrocutes a tree and is a doomsayer

by kayliemalinza



Series: Rambleverse [59]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kayliemalinza's Rambleverse, Kirk's Proper Captaincy (Rambleverse Timeline)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2009-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An abandoned WiP. It was going to be a proper away mission fic, complete with ooky alien lifeforms.</p><p>Teaser: "We should split up," says Jim.</p><p>"That's like saying 'We should swallow tapeworms,'" says Bones, and folds his arms across his chest when Jim smiles at him reassuringly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There's a fork in the path. Of _course_ there is.

"We should split up," says Jim.

"That's like saying 'We should swallow tapeworms,'" says Bones, and folds his arms across his chest when Jim smiles at him reassuringly.

"Come on, it's just a nice, refreshing walk in the woods," Jim says, clapping Bones on the shoulder. "Isn't that a cherished Southern past-time, or something?"

"This isn't Georgia," Bones points out. That's something of an understatement. Of course, Jim is probably imagining a Georgia that doesn't exist anymore, given how everything on Earth is slicked over and criss-crossed with roving shadows from elevated traffic. Georgia is a fairy tale lurking in the broad, slow sweeps of Bones' voice: gray moss draped in tangles from the power lines and bumbled oak roots bursting from the soil; the cicada whine that pauses, startled, when a car door slams.

The only sound this planet makes is the crackling of electric trees.

Still, there are things to recommend it. "At least it's nice out," says Jim. "Not too hot or cold, and there's no chance of rain." In fact, the air here is so dry that Jim can feel his snot go gummy.

Bones doesn't look convinced so Jim sweeps his arms out to indicate the forest surrounding them. "Even without my charming company, you can still enjoy the view," he says. "Aren't these the prettiest trees you've ever seen?" Jim is kind of in love with the trees, actually, their branches jagging upwards like broken metal wire. Symbiotic worms drape from each branch like ghastly garland, and the hollow chitin needles at their tips gleam softly when they sway. Jim really wants to get ahold of one of those needles to see if it would be suitable as a weapon, but only because the creatures remind him of "sandworms" from an old book he read as a child. Of course, he knows better than to mention any of this out loud because Bones has no appreciation or knowledge of ancient sci-fi. Jim would have to explain the reference and, since he's missing a few mental filters when it comes to Bones, he'd end up confessing that he used to stare at his bright blue eyes in the mirror and pretend he was high on spice. In response, Bones would dig up some vintage vocabulary of his own and call Jim a dork.

Instead, Jim gestures at the trees again and grins a little wider.

Bones doesn't bother raising an eyebrow at Jim or staring at him like he's crazy. Instead, Bones reaches down to comb through the grit at his feet for a rock. He hefts it in his hand a moment—it's a flaky, sediment rock with dark striations—then flings it into the nearest clump of trees.

What follows is a disgusting symphony. The symbiotic worms rear up all at once and graze against the rock with a sick kind of blackboard scratch. Needles clack furiously against each other and, when the rock is finally batted into the crotch of the tree, there erupts a fantastic storm of sparks and sizzles. Electricity arcs among the branches; the worms seize up and crackle.

Jim can see the veins glow softly in their translucent skins.

"Yeah," Bones says flatly. "The trees are pretty like a mushroom cloud."

Clearly, this is something he and Bones will just have to agree to disagree on.


	2. Chapter 2

The tree continues to short out until a convulsing worm knocks the rock loose. Everything stops at once and the the worms fall limp, some sliding to the ground with a _plop_.

Bones takes a calming breath and says carefully, "Jim, if we split up, we're gonna _die_."

"Bones, you've said that about every mission we've been on for the past six years," Jim replies just as calmly. "Is there any particular reason why you think you'll be right this time?"

Bones' answer is a silent yet eloquent flail of limbs that encompasses the eerily dry air, the admittedly foreboding trees, and the musty tang of fried worms.

"You'll need to use some actual words because I don't speak whatever _this_ is," Jim snaps back, giving a fair approximation of Bones' gestures. He's lying, of course. Jim is fluent in every dialect of Bones-speak, with a particular mastery of Drunken Slur and Eyebrow.

"Don't rile me up, Jim," says Bones. He waves his hand at the bleached white soil where the research team used poison to clear a path for their vehicles to travel between stations. That was fifteen years ago but without rain or animal population, the poison's dominion has remained unchanged. Bones points to the widest path. "I vote we take the right fork."

"I vote we follow the orders of our commanding officer and split up," Jim shoots back.

"You so much as think the word 'insubordination' and I will shove my boot up your ass. I have the medical knowledge to do that," Bones adds when Jim open his mouth.

"Try to guess what word I'm thinking now," Jim says.

Bones puts his fingers on Jim's face in an imitation of Spock's mind-meld. "Well, I can tell for sure it isn't 'common sense,'" he drawls.

Jim smacks Bones' hands away but Bones grips his fingers, refusing to let go or step back. "I got the heebie jeebies, Jim," he says softly.

Jim looks at Bones for a minute, cataloging the creases that have crept into his skin along the years, the hard, worried line of his lower lip and the flecks of green in his eyes. Jim re-evaluates his strategy. "Listen," he says, leaning a little bit into Bones like he's telling a secret. "I don't want to split up, either, but we have a limited amount of time before the _Enterprise_ will come back into range. If we split up, we can cover all the required ground and get beamed back up before breakfast tomorrow instead of sticking around while the ship orbits again."

Bones is starting to concede; Jim can tell from the softening of his mouth and the way his eyes cut away. Jim slides their hands into a proper military grip, each holding the other's wrist, and says, "Besides that, we'll be in touch the whole time with the short range communicators." He adds solemnly, "If you get scared, you tell me right away and I'll sing you a lullaby."

Bones snorts and pulls away. "No thanks, Jim, I've heard you sing." He stares at the tree for a moment then lets out a long breath. "Ok, fine," he says. "But if you die, I'm going to etch 'I told you so' into your chest with a laser scalpel during the autopsy."

"You're the best friend a guy could have," Jim says with a grin. "If you die, I promise to shed a manful tear while speaking eloquently at your funeral."

Bones squeezes Jim's shoulder without really looking at him and walks away.

"Meet you at the rendezvous point!" Jim calls.

Bones waves his hand in acknowledgement without calling back. Jim watches him go, listening to the scuff of his boots in the soil even after he disappears around the curve of the path.


End file.
